


Keyhouse

by Azdaema



Category: Locke & Key (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Gen, Haunted Houses, House-Inhabitant Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:00:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azdaema/pseuds/Azdaema
Summary: Keyhouse has a difficult relationship with the Locke family.
Relationships: Keyhouse & the Locke family
Kudos: 4





	Keyhouse

Duncan returns to the house a scarce hour before her new inhabitants arrive. Or perhaps he arrives earlier, but it’s only then that she awakes. He hasn’t been here since last spring, and he’s inside before she’s aware of his presence. She does not get the chance to stiffen the lock, hold firm against the key and keep him out.

Duncan: the boy she sheltered from the wind and snow for eighteen winters. Duncan: the boy who ran off to college and has been a specter ever since, flinched each time he crossed her threshold.

Windows shift uneasily in their frames, letting in protesting whines of wind.

* * *

“Once you fix it up, we can sell Keyhouse for jillions, and then you can move _anywhere_ ,” Duncan assures the stranger.

“No, that’s not the plan. I mean, I need a project; my kids need a home.”

For one long moment, Keyhouse stands absolutely still. Not a floorboard creaks, not a window sighs, not a shingle rattles in the wind.

But of course Duncan has to spoil it. “Does it have to be _this_ project? _This_ home?”

* * *

The first night, Bode turns off the light and sprints for his bed. He catapults himself onto his mattress from several steps away, trying desperately to avoid the gulf of darkness by the foot of the bed. He scrambles under the covers, pulling them over his head. There he is safe, he tells himself.

Kinsey is older. She has hidden from danger behind mere fabric before, and she knows this is only the scarcest safety. She waits a long time, ashamed of her fear. Until, finally, in the dead of night, she goes down the hallway to her brother’s room in a nervous half-jog. Tyler has his earbuds in and his eyes closed, trying to block out the house. He jumps when his door opens, until Kinsey sticks her head in.

“Um. I—I got used to it, I guess? In the motels? Can I… can I sleep here tonight?”

He just nods. They curl up under the covers, not _quite_ touching. Between the curve of her brother’s sleeping form, and the desk lamp, which they leave on—two talismans against the malignant house—Kinsey finally sleeps.

On the other side of the house, Duncan lays awake even longer. He’s curled on his side, facing the wall, on the very edge of his mattress—his phone’s cord doesn't reach far. His face glows blue in the light of the screen, and he smiles at the meme Bryan has sent him. Finally—phone still cradled in one hand—he drifts off.

She pushes the phone charger out of its loose, rickety socket behind Duncan’s bed, and morphs a new step into the staircase. She widens the gap between the window and the windowsill, and all night long the window closest to his bed rattles noisily in the wind, and gusts of icy air come in through the seam.

* * *

In the morning, Duncan awakes to find his phone almost dead. He trips on the stairs on his way down—the new fourteenth step throws the spacing all off. He clings to his brushed shinbone, cursing.

Before he gets in the car to leave, Duncan looks back at the house for a long moment, then raises his middle finger.

“Sayonara, Keyhouse.”

_I shall freeze your key in the lock next time; you shall not enter again. Or perhaps you will. Perhaps you will, and I shall devour you. You are mine; you grew here, under my roof. If I cannot trust you to return, perhaps I shall not trust you enough to let you go._


End file.
